On Saturday morning, I interviewed a teenager who lives in what sounds like a chaotic household. A couple of the nighttime e-mails I’ve gotten from her have been sent at or after 1:30 a.m. At the end of our hour together, we hugged instead of shaking hands.
She mentioned, more than once, that she wishes she had a parent who pushed her and set an example of how to be worldly and upwardly mobile. I’ve never heard a kid say that, mid-upbringing. That’s more typically a post-upbringing reflection of someone who’s shocked everyone by having officially “made it” or someone who’s bitter about not having made it. In any event, this girl is hell-bent on upwardly mobilizing herself, and it’s clear that the teachers she’s had are the ones who have served as her proxy life coaches. A scenario that happens all the time, yet never enough.
Like most Libras, I’ve always been indecisive. When I was trying to figure out what career to take up, I thought about veterinary medicine, museum curating, clinical psychology, journalism, law, K-12 schoolteaching. Aside from the “another lawyer?” jokes offered up by the kinds of middle-aged men who are always worrying about being sued, the only prospective path that was ever openly scoffed at was the schoolteaching. It wasn’t considered a fitting ambition for the go-getters.
I watched the Grammys last night, a week after watching the Super Bowl. Extravaganzas like these usually get me thinking about misallocations. Misallocations of resources, misallocations of priorities. When I turned on my computer this morning, one of the first things I read was a poll question about Bruce Springsteen’s opening act. Here’s a poll question I’d be interested in putting out there: When they first demonstrated the drive and talent to earn their livings as entertainers and athletes, how many of this month’s Grammy winners and Giants players got laughed at?
A day in pictures...
1 day ago